


Star-Crossed, Crossing Stars

by ameerkatofficial



Series: Touched [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Almost Kiss, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Broken Engagement, Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Coming Out, Consent, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, Escape, French, Friends to Lovers, Holodeck, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Jealousy, Longing, Loss of Innocence, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oh how it burns, PTSD, Prison, Questioning, Recovery, Relationship Advice, Royalty, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Tension, The hets are at it again, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, accidentally engaged, almost gay, almost prison sex, breakdowns, dying, fake date, hand holding, nursing back to health, slow slow burn, slowwwww burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2020-11-07 21:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameerkatofficial/pseuds/ameerkatofficial
Summary: Some fun little scenes that gradually build up to a romance in what is my favorite ship in Voyager. RATING WILL CHANGE AS THIS UPDATES.





	1. Like Glue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an early posting of it on mobile so I will come back and fix it up later on my laptop but I want someone to goddamn read it already.
> 
> Just a really emotional scene after “Non-Sequiter”. References that episode in season 1 where Harry died for a like a hot second. I’m writing this while very, very feverish, I apologize...
> 
> Anyways, since this will be multiple scenes—rating will change, tags will change, depending on what ends up happening. I’m just in a weird mood and need to get some emotions out, fam...

It was one of their little walks and talks down the simulated streets of Marseille. The moon was high and bright and the air was brisk and sharp. Winter was approaching—just the way Tom liked it when he was in a mood.

Exactly what mood, Harry was still unsure, but it was certainly one of them. The dirty blond was singing something half in bad French, half in mumbled English, in that sweet, low baritone he possessed, dipping occasionally down into an even sweeter bass.

The ensign was more than happy to accompany his friend on what was shaping up to be another one of his charmingly manic-depressive episodes outside of Sandrine’s. However, as he looked out upon the sleepy streets under the bluebell sky, Harry couldn’t help but recall that he had only really ever been to Marseille once...

“Why am I _like_ this, Har?” Tom drawled in that overly dramatic way of his, his large hands worrying about him, especially when he spoke of Kes, as if he meant to physically rid his hands of her, “Why the hell did I get her a locket? _And why the hell didn’t you stop me?”_

The space for an answer quickly passed, as the shorter man stared off onto the cobblestone streets of Marseille. He had been here so often, and yet, he had really only been to Marseille once...

_ “Harry?”_

A sweet rise to the voice, a harsh strike to the arm—

_ “Hey!_ What? You’re an idiot, I guess?”

Tom’s cool, blue eyes narrowed, as the corner of his mouth quirked up in reply.

“I’m _touched_,” the taller man held a hand to his heart, “Now tell me what’s the matter with you, Har?”

Harry shrunk against Tom’s suddenly direct tone.

  
“_Nothing._..” the ensign’s petulant tone suggested otherwise, and dirty blond brows rose as he caught on, pulling up fists to slender hips as the lieutenant sharply cocked his head.

“...something..._alright—_“ Harry’s defenses began to crumble like the old, sea-shorn bridge they were now strolling along. Harry stepped quickly ahead, holding up his hands in surrender, “I’ve just...never been to Marseille before, you know?” he tried his best to keep a neutral tone, but it crumbled along with his expression—down into the sea. “Not until I...saw you...”

Harry caught his friend’s eye, something haunted in his own dark gaze as he scanned Tom up and down, as if he were seeing a ghost.

“_Saw me_...” Tom repeated to himself as he struggled to catch those dark eyes, “Saw me...on the holodeck?”

_ “No!”_ the ensign rolled his eyes, starting to turn around. He let Tom step forward, and they fell in step as they moved onward, as Harry’s lips warped into a thinly drawn scowl.

“Not _this_ you—the other..._you_...”

“The _other_ me?”

“The _other_ _reality_ you!”

Tom stood still then, hands slowly climbing to his hips again as his lips hung open, the soft, wispy steam of wintry air swirling through, “That...that really _spooked_ you, huh?”

Harry responded with his own cold breath pulsing through under Tom’s scrutinizing gaze. He held that gaze, held onto it for dear life, as if holding it there could somehow freeze the other.

“Well, what did I do to you, Harry? Kiss you?”

  
_“What?_” the question shook the terror out of the ensign’s spine, if only for a moment, “No, why would you—“

_ “Did I try to kiss you?”_ Tom took on an increasingly teasing tone.

_ “N-No!”_

“Do you want me to kiss you? _I’ll do it for ya, Har—“_

_ “Tom! No, please—!”_

Before Harry could flee, large hands gripped his shoulders, fingers digging into the shoulder pads of his uniform. Harry braced himself for impact, but after a few moments—

It was just those eyes again...

...and how they burned.

“Harry...” the taller man spoke suddenly gently now, “Just tell me what happened.”

The ensign breathed hard and slow, in and out, as he searched through the other man’s eyes for an opening, a place to take root and begin.

“When I met you...” he began slowly, “When I met you, I was looking for answers. And you...you were at a bar, like Sandrine’s, playing billiards...you were broken. A _drunk.”_

Something shifted in Tom’s gaze then, if only by a millimeter. There was the twitch of an eyelash, the flare of a nostril, all settling back to an expression that slowly hardened over like concrete. Tom swallowed, then Harry did in response.

“Okay..._and?”_

“Well—“ Harry slowly broke away from the other man’s grasp, coming to lean upon the bridge, “Well you told me you got kicked off of Voyager after starting a fight in Deep Space Nine...and then you fought with me.”

_“Did I win?”_ Tom snorted, folding his arms as he leaned beside the other.

The ensign shot the other a look,_ “Not important._ Anyway—you saved me in a police chase back in San Francisco,” the brunette chuckled softly, “Hell, you and I managed to highjack a shuttle right at _Starfleet headquarters!”_

The haunted look about Tom was gone now, as he grinned in triumph at the thought of this lost adventure, these unlived memories with his friend. The grin was infectious, but always with a sad tinge.

“You and I were regular pirates, huh?” the disgraced lieutenant smirked, staring off into the darkening sky, “You and me against the world...sounds like a great time if you ask me.”

Harry found himself smiling too at the thought of it. “Yeah...sure felt like it.”

There were white stars, and then yellow lights in the city like flames. They were pinpricks of gas, or of life, where people dwelled and atoms collided. It was all fake, of course—and that fact just made Harry ache for home...

_ “...and then you died.”_

The words slipped out like the cool, calm sea breezes that swept over the two of them. Harry felt Tom’s eyes shift to him, even if he was too scared to face them. He could picture Tom’s jaw shifting, tightening and un-tightening, the bob of his throat rolling down.

_ “How’d I die?”_ he asked, his voice like a strike in the dark.

Harry’s gaze shifted to Tom’s, falling from his eyes to his form, still terribly grateful that this absurd, lanky man was still there, still with him.

“You blew up the shuttle while I transported out,” the ensign answered, his voice taking on callouses. “It was the only way to get back to this reality. And I mean—_it worked.”_

Tom smiled then, careful and slow. “Well good job then, Har. You made it.”

“Yeah, but—“

_ “—but what?”_

Harry fingered the weathered stone of the bridge, left the soft breeze wash over his neck and shoulders before he answered.

“You _died.”_

“And?” Tom replied, indignant, as he marched closer to the other, “I’m not dead now. Still here, see?” He took Harry’s hand and playfully slapped himself with it, “_Flesh and blood right in front of ya.”_

Harry chuckled as he twisted his hand out of the other’s grasp, before seizing the taller man’s shoulders to focus him, “I know,” he still felt his smile, “I know, Tom. But you died—I _know_ you died, and it scares me, _‘cause, you know I died once—“_

His voice had risen, Tom’s chin lowered. Harry felt his eyes shine.

“It’s.._.scary_...it’s scary dying, you know? _Actually_ dying. Everything’s quiet. Everything’s sudden. It’s so...so lonely and so..._quick_—and even though I knew that I’d get revived, _I still felt my mind fighting to stop it—”_

Harry gasped, and Tom caught him in a tight grasp, murmuring assurances of _“Gotcha, Harry”_ as he pat the other man’s back. Harry didn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. He’d been trying to cry for months. He could only squeeze his eyes shut and hold tight.

He thought he could smell Libby’s perfume.

  
Harry pulled away savagely, though he succumbed to Tom’s stabilizing hands, “You died because of _me._ You blew yourself apart along with a whole reality—with no proof that I wasn’t crazy, _or just some weird stalker from San Francisco!”_

_ “Hey, at least you’re a pretty one—“_

_ “—this isn’t funny, Tom!”_

Harry was breathing hard, and Tom hardly seemed to be breathing at all. He twitched against Tom’s stillness, until the stillness spread.

  
“I’m sorry.”

Harry took a deep breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth. The air smelled sweet here, however stale. It wasn’t the same as being there, not completely. There was just some things a holodeck couldn’t replicate.

“You got kicked off of Voyager because I wasn’t there to stop you from fighting that Ferengi. And then you came and found me—_a stranger_—and killed yourself for me because you thought a life trapped on a little starship lost in space would be better than a life as an alcoholic in Marseille.”

_ “...Harry...”_

Harry shuddered, along with the wind, along with the exhaustion, along with the sing-song tune Tom insisted using for his name. But it wasn’t funny, and Tom knew it wasn’t funny, not with the way those cool, blue eyes softened just a hair as he cocked his head and spoke.

“The choices I make—_in this reality or the next_—are my own. So don’t get guilty, alright?” he nodded slowly, prompting the younger ensign to reciprocate. “I might be one hell of an idiot, but I’m_ my own idiot_, and if I decide to go and kill myself for some crazy kid from California, that’s between me and whatever cruel god put us out here, got it?”

_ “Got it.”_

Tom gave a soft smile to Harry’s hoarse reply. His hands climbed up to the other man’s shoulders, squeezing comfortingly.

“That being said—I say you take this little adventure as a sign that I’m stuck to you like glue, Har. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

A slow grin warmed up to both of their faces at once. For a moment, there was peace in the air, and warmth between them.

“You’re my best friend, Tom,” the ensign was finally breathing easy as the lieutenant’s hands relaxed, “_Really..._I don’t know what I’d do without you...”

_ “I love you, too, Harry.”_

“...now you’re making it weird...”

The blond gave his famous lopsided grin, half-feral as usual. He ruffled and messed up the brunette’s hair, “Come on. I wasn’t done telling you about _my grief!”_

_ “About you buying jewelry for an already taken woman?”_

Tom spun around on Harry then, seeming keen on striking the other. But he seized the man’s shoulders instead, aggressively kissing one cheek, then tenderly the other.

A stunned Harry stood rail-straight, eyes questioning the other as he felt pinpricks swarm his face.

_ “What?_ It’s a sign of friendship in France!” the blond man drawled. He grabbed Harry’s arm,_ “Now come on!”_


	2. Don't Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regarding S3E3--this is the gay one. "The Chute".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets intense. Also I'm publishing at 3 in the morning so don't judge if there are typos, I'll probably get to them in a few hours...

_The clamp _is what they called it. It was an affliction worse than hysteria, that slowly fed on the weaknesses present in the infected's mind, amplifying them tenfold. Worse yet, it was mechanically made, and therefore crueler and more effective than any of the cosmos' own creations. How quickly it could starve the afflicted of rationality, as clearly exhibited by the look in their eyes--savage, feral. 

A look that Ensign Harry Kim fought, and Lieutenant Tom Paris seemed to be sinking further into by the hour, starting from that flirtatious grin he usually wore when he greeted Harry at the bottom of the chute, right before he socked the ensign in the gut with a force that started white-hot, before the ensign's ears ran cold, and he fell. It continued on when he pulled a knife on another man threatening to steal the ensign away, pushing the blade close against his throat.

_"A ruse" _his remorseful gaze insisted once he picked the dazed Harry up from the ground, _"I've got you."_

He seemed the more sane, at first. He was virile, well-spoken, standing tall and when he laid down a pained Harry Kim he held onto his dear friend's hand with a steady grip as the other hoarsely spoke of their false crimes. But Harry knew it had begun for Tom through the piercing blue of his gaze. It was jocular and coy as always, sure. But while he spoke clearly, he spoke too fast, with a distinct bite to the end of his words. And there was something distant, something frazzled and fizzing, like loose strands of hair or sparks gone awry. And he always seemed to grip Harry a little too tight, right before he'd shriek and hit and throw, but not without a soft-spoken apology.

"The next time you take a swing at me," Harry would softly reply with a coy smile of his own, "I'm hitting back." 

But even Harry began to succumb, feeling jumpy, impatient, quick to hiss scolds at his alleged _partner-in-crime. _"You're feeling it too," Tom could only say in melancholy reply, before they'd collapse, tangled in netting and confused limbs and sweat, into stygian oblivion for the night.

Tom would try to stave off Harry's teetering on the edge by speaking of food, _warm _food. They'd speak of roast beef and wine, and shrimp and kimchi burgers. They'd speak of ice cream. They'd speak of _anything _they could, promising that they'd spoil each other when they got out with food credits, if only the other would promise to hang on. But always their chatting would be cut short by a scratch of the head, then an errant look that was nothing but pure, undifferentiated energy. There would be a smack to the arm, a tug of the sleeve, a whispered cry to _"get it together", _and then Tom would speak in a warm, low voice "_crown roast of lamb...with a bed of wild rice...". _Harry would reply excitedly, _"Fudge ripple pudding."_

Bad grew to worse when they were caught inventing a device to short out the electric field in the chute. Harry felt his heart explode when he was held back as Tom took a knife to the stomach, and perhaps it was the helpful _clamp _that led to him beating the offender with a pipe, before dragging his friend away, snarling all the while with the ferocity of a leopard. 

"Promise me something," the bleeding out Tom huffed in haggard, hot breath, "if things get worse...if it comes down to making a choice....Don't worry about me, take care of yourself. _Do we have a deal?"_

_"Quiet." _Harry growled in response, his eyes flashing dangerously as he clung to his friend with a frightening grip. They were going to get out of this and have shrimp with fettra sauce, _they had to!_

The man who gave them bandages was seemingly unaffected by the madness that surrounded him. He spoke calmly, coolly, with a smooth, low bass that grew even lower when he threatened to kill Harry. The ensign's breath hitched when he did, and the man smiled in return. _"The clamp" _Harry would blame. 

But at night, Tom would murmur to Harry that he didn't trust their savior, as their hands curled around each others to remain steadily in this moment, caked in their own sweat and blood. But little did he know that Harry hardly trusted their _guardian angel_ either. And yet, the prospect of losing his friend was somehow worse than never getting out of this prison, than insanity or even death. 

_"I can take him," _Tom would insist, before casting a glance to see the man's shadow, and the two of them would stare in fearful silence.

"If you husbands are expecting a third...trust me, no amount of food in the world would make_ me part of it._"

"We're not--!"

Even a severely drained Tom's hand had the strength in it to slap Harry quiet. 

Harry and the stranger would work alongside each other in the dead of night. Harry would tinker and chip away as the stranger would monologue, and slowly the veil of his composure would lift to reveal an even madder man than the rest. God...Harry wanted to badly to punch him in the mouth, or perhaps to kiss him to shut him up--

But before that avenue could be explore in the darkest recesses of his mind, his invention beeped to life. "_Touch it" _he whispered to the other man, and watched as his hands pressed onto the cool, red inner tube and remain unscathed. Harry found himself drunk off of a different sort of madness then. _Eureka! _Oh how he could have thought to kiss the man again! But he found himself being pushed into the tube, followed closely behind by the other, and the crawled through rusted metal, further...further...

The intoxication died, however, when Harry felt the cool of a blustery forcefield, and his eyes opened up to the jewels of the velvet-black cosmos. It was so lovely, and yet so horrid, that his stomach lurched and fell and his eyes teared up immediately.

_"There's nothing out here!" _he cried out to the stranger, and perhaps to the cruel cosmos out there as well. "Just..._space..."_

When he returned, Tom was pale, the delicate skin around his eyes dark, making his blue eyes so startlingly blue. _"Did you make it?" _he would ask as Harry set to change his bandages. _"Almost," _Harry would lie gently.

But as he lifted the man's shirt, exposing the festering wound, Tom barked, threatening to kill Harry with the precious invention that had revealed to Harry the inky void outside their prison. Harry moved fast, catching the other end of the cool, heavy pipe, speaking slowly, reminded Tom of his wound, ensuring that he was simply dressing it. Tom relinquished the pipe, and the madness would leave from his eyes like a swift wind, and instead be replaced by a childish fear. 

_"Don't leave me here," _he croaked.

It stung, hearing those words, for he knew a saner Tom would never dare utter them. He choked back tears as he slid his fingers between the other's and whispered "_close your eyes" _as he laid beside the other to succumb to a dreamless sleep, blanketed by Tom's warmth and the mad laughter that filled the vast prison.

_"Is your husband dead yet?" _

_"Shut up!"_

Harry and the stranger paced and paced around each other, discussing the possibilities of escape by the cover of night. Harry shot ideas, the stranger shot them down, and they'd circle each other once more, Harry spitting and hissing against the stranger's calm refutes, until it reached a boiling point and Harry shoved away the other's manifesto, sending papers flying. It was then that the _sane man _reminded Harry of how tenuous their relationship was, and how easily he could _kill _if he just lost a hair of his control.

Cries for rebellion fell upon deaf ears of men whose minds had wasted and whittled down to nothing. All were mocking, jeering, bloodthirsty mongrels mutated of the men they once were, each carrying a broken soul upon their grime-covered sleeves.

Harry crawled back into their shelter to find an even more humiliating horror waiting for him, however, as he found his dearest friend, amusedly taking apart the wires from the device like a child. It was then that Harry's own madness boiled to a fever pitch, as he beat the sorry whelp, over and over against the wall, feeling the heat rising, his fists burning, his head spinning against the other's screams until--

\--until he had straddled the other, pinned him down between his knees, raising a pipe over his head, aimed directly between Tom Paris's bright blue eyes.

"...finish him."

Harry stopped, wondering if he could suddenly hear his own conscious, before he recognized the voice and spun around to find the stranger, his eyes burning with the same intensity, as he leaned forward, urging Harry on. Harry fled, ashamed of the own burning heat, the desire to feel _blood _on his hands, all the while the stranger urged, urged, urged him to let go of his _friend, _the carcass, to join him as an apostle and train the men to obey...

...he laid a hand against Harry's waist...

"He's my best friend!" Harry half-screamed, half sobbed, as he tossed the other man off, breathing hard and white-hot. "...and you're _insane_."

A knife was pressed into Harry's hand then. He dropped it to the ground with a clang. "I'm not a killer."

He had to flee with Tom, and _quick._

But then men were quicker, like vultures, smelling the death on Tom's breath. Harry wielded the broken device, the sturdy, cool pipe vibrating in his hands with his own adrenaline as he asked himself _Would I kill for Tom?_

He almost found himself answering that question when the alarm blared. _A new prisoner. _

But how sorely mistaken the ravenous men were when they were greeted by phaser fire, and the confident grin of one Captain Janeway.

A runabout spirited them away, as Harry and Tom were huddled in the back in blankets, feeling the floor of the ship strain and vibrate from the sudden speed of their escape. Harry squeezed Tom's hand all the while, willing him to be still alive, and as it turns out, his will was strong. For suddenly, however briefly, Tom returned to life, his blue eyes bluer surrounded by dead-grey skin. And yet with whatever strength he had, he pulled a startled Harry close, and their lips closer, sealing them as they took off, before seeming to lose his soul between Harry's pair, and collapsing onto his chest. Harry promptly fell to unconsciousness as well.

A week later they sat in the ensign's room in silence. Things had been rather silent between them lately, broken only by tight smiles and nervous chuckles. Tom hadn't even dared to come near Harry's room until now, and even then he spoke no words when Harry answered the door, just a soft, yet sturdy blue gaze, a lick of his thin, pink lips, before Harry allowed Tom entry. 

And they sat beside each other on the little blue couch, hands at least five centimeters apart when not so long ago they were inseparably entwined as they babbled on about steak dinners and far-off wines. 

"So I kissed you," Tom broke the silence with his sing-song voice, as usual announcing as loudly as he could exactly what was on Harry's mind.

"And I almost killed you," Harry returned.

_"I know."_

So it was settled, then. Tom Paris was certifiably_ insane._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we stan some TENSION


	3. Heterosexual Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Chute, though this is very clearly not longer very canon. Harry comes out to Tom as...a cishet man...and Tom unwittingly makes his feelings about this quite plain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty jarring change in tone from my usual shit, but hey maybe it's good!

“So…are you _gay?” _

Things had been normal for the past few weeks. The ship ran, the stars flew past, and the lieutenant and the ensign returned to their fast friendship. The pair was returning from Kes’s evening airponics presentation. As the others filtered out to where they were meant to be, Tom and Harry slowly found themselves alone in the corridor—which was _fine_. It had been_ fine_ that they were alone for weeks now. But it was fine, as fine as it could be between two poor old souls who had escaped the horrors of prison and mental decay. The nightmares didn't stop for Harry, but they were becoming less frequent, as were his fits and bouts of rage. Tom was less shaky, less fidgety, his skin less pale and his strides once again as long as the shorelines of the finest pleasure planet money could buy. So they had to cope, as well as they could, as if they could be normal again, and perhaps they just might be. After all, Harry no longer had any urge to kill, Tom no longer had any urge to…confuse Harry.

…until today…

“Tom…” Harry replied, dark brows furrowed in a quizzical glance, “I’ve had a _girlfriend_. You and I went on a double date with the _Delaney Sisters!”_

_“So?” _the refute from Tom floated above Harry’s head, “I’ve had boyfriends_ too_—and wouldn’t mind all too much if they Delaneys suddenly became _brothers or…something else…_”

“…so you’re pansexual.”

_“God bless you.”_

Harry shot the man a look that lasted a little too long, a look that made Tom a little sheepish. “I’m not pan, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He turned away and continued walking, feeling the corridor walls close in a little tighter. But he was eager to keep moving, uncaring whether or not Tom followed.

Well eager until—

_“Why no—“_

Harry spun around, trying to look a little less cross. _“Huh?”_

Tom stood straighter, his smile a little tighter, till it was broken by a quick, nervous lick of his lips. But his blue eyes screamed _“panic”._

“I uh…_forget it, Har_. I didn’t say anything important.”

“Why _what? _What’s your question?” Harry stepped closer to the gulping Lieutenant Paris. “Is it _that _surprising I’m not attracted to men?”

Paris tipped his head, his smile tightening even further until his lips whitened, his face reddening, before he suddenly dashed forward with a quick “_Yeah,_ _I’m gonna stop talking now.”_

“Tom, I’m not mad!” Harry chased after the other, “I’m honestly just curious. Is it because I’m short or something?”

Tom slowed to a walk, allowing the ensign to catch up, and as he did the lieutenant grabbed him up with a long arm around the shoulders, walking fast, talking faster.

“Look it’s just that you…you’ve got this _smile—”_

“So only gay people smile? Got it.”

“No! No, no…I misspoke…I-I mean you are just so polite and charming and _just so damn nice—”_

“So to be straight I’ve gotta be _rude?”_

“No! But straight people are just a _different_ kind of nice you know—”

“No, I don’t.”

“—and I mean you’re just so _private_ about your sex life that I never really know and I feel like as your _best friend_ I should know just in case some guy comes up to me and asks me about you and now I can just say _‘no sorry, not good ol’ Heterosexual Harry’, _so you know you really should be _thanking me—”_

“Is that my superhero name now? _Heterosexual Harry?”_

_“—and also I mean you did kiss me so it’s kind of confusing…”_

Harry stopped short, digging his heels into the carpet. He carefully extricated himself from Tom’s arm as he turned to face the other. He folded his arms across his chest, speaking low. “You kissed _me_.”

“—look, we both kissed _each other_, alright? It was a kiss. We were both involved.”

“I’m not attracted to you, Tom.”

Tom Paris suddenly looked like he had been hit over the head by a frying pan. He looked about to tumble with how his eyes widened, pulling back at the waist. “W-Well I’m not attracted to_ you!”_

“Good.”

“_Good!”_

They stood in silence, facing each other. Harry was flushing from exertion, Tom was flushing harder. They both…_stared._ They stared for a while, unsure if they were having some kind of _het-off _or some other test of restrained machismo. Tom folded his arms, Harry folded his in response. Harry narrowed his eyes, Tom narrowed his back. Tom licked his lips, Harry parted his own. But a slow smile crept between them, and even more slowly they turned so that they were once again side-by-side, taking long strides together down the corridor.

“I only kissed you because of adrenaline, you know?” Tom huffed, “We almost died—the body does some _strange_ things then…”

“I think you’re lying.”

“—well I think_ you’re_ lying.”

Harry quickly turned around, “I’m going to bed, Tom. Come find me when you admit to your _little crush.”_

_“I don’t have a crush on you, Harry!”_

Harry heard doors hiss open, heard murmurs of _“do you know what time it is”, _heard quick and flustered apologies from one lieutenant already on some _very thin ice. _He walked on, a soft smile on his face. He wasn’t angry, not really, nor as disturbed as he thought he would be. He was actually quite flattered that someone as handsome as Tom Paris could find Harry even the slightest bit _appealing. _And perhaps he would have taken up Tom if he swung that way. The man was beautiful, charming, fun, the most annoying man in the gamma quadrant, but also the most loyal, and even his chapped lips on that runabout felt kind of nice…

Harry felt bad for the man. Surely there were better men out there for Tom that actually _might feel something back_. Because Ensign Harry Kim most certainly_ did not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry girl you're lying to yourself.


	4. Je t'aime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is torn up over Marayna. Post 3E14: "Alter Ego".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the power of fwiendship :3

How did he know?

Before even asking the computer where Ensign Kim was located, before even bothering to enter the holodeck, Tom Paris _knew_—all the way down to the look on his face.

He sat alone at a table on the water, a cold drink in hand hardly touched, though the ice had already half melted, overfilling the contents nearly to the rim. The moon was high, bright and blue over the shore ahead. Harry’s dark hair seemed to catch the moonbeams in his thick, straight locks, reflecting blue as well.

It was the resort once again, however completely gutted of the hedonistic pleasures around every corner. There was one half-melted drink, one half-dead Harry, so completely and utterly alone by the darkening shore.

“_Hey, Har..._” Tom sang, as usual, as he slowly navigated through the abandoned tables. Harry looked up with the look of a startled doe.

“Tom...” his wide, dark eyes squinted, “What are you...doing here?”

“Well...” Tom spun around a chair, sitting in it backwards and leaning his chin against the back as the two back legs lifted with his weight, “B’Elanna took Vorik out tonight instead of me so I thought hey, maybe I’d take out my best man for the night. And where else besides a_ haunted luau..._”

The joke didn’t land, instead flicking off the top of his quickly raised and lowered brow, the roll of his eyes.

“Good to know that I’m your second choice...”

_“—hey, I didn’t mean...”_

But it was too late. Harry was disengaged, fingertips dragging down the misting sides of his glass as his gaze returned to the ink-dark shore. Tom leaned his head on his forearm, observing his moonlight traced Harry’s profile. He was glowing tonight, and yet he seemed the only one unaware of it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Tom asked, almost soft enough for his voice to get swallowed by the tides’ distant roar. He almost thought he wasn’t heard, and wasn’t sure if he should ask again or let the moment pass...

“I’m pathetic, Tom...” Harry returned, his low voice equally as soft. His eyes, dark as the sea, softened, becoming as fluid as the waves as his gaze came down to the glass in his hand. He dared a smile, a chuckle, but the taste of it seemed obviously bitter in Harry’s mouth. He shook his head. “I fell for a computer program—and to make it worse she chose _another man_ over me...”

“Hey, we found out she wasn’t even a computer program! Harry, _you got rejected by a real woman!”_

The ensign flashed the lieutenant a dangerous look. The lieutenant gulped back his grin.

_“Wow, thanks. I feel better already.”_

The torches around them miraculously didn’t burn out yet besides being so dangerously close to the end of their wicks. The fire-glow was low and golden, and still the shadows seemed to bring out the tired lines on Harry’s face even more. God...he was still so young, wasn’t he?

“I’m lonely, Tom. I’ve been lonely—and now that one of the strongest relationships I’ve had on this ship left me for Tuvok before disappearing into a nebula...” he lifted his diluted, melted drink, seeming about to drink it, but he changed his mind and held it in mid air by his lips instead, “I’m somehow lonelier than when I left that alternate reality version of Libby...”

Tom watched his hands, traced them up to his sighing lips and defeated, dark eyes. His shoulders fell along with his smile.

“Me too.”

Harry glanced over at Tom’s reply, finally managing to take a sip of his drink. He nodded slowly, understanding. _“You too.”_

“Yeah...but funnily enough,” the lieutenant leaned back, “My time here has been the least lonely I’ve ever been.” Paris gave a sad smile, a small shrug, “Prison will do that to you—and isolation from everything your life used to be...”

Harry matched the half-smile of the ex-con. “_Yeah._ You’re right—I...I’m sorry I guess this Marayna thing isn’t as—“

“—no, that’s not what I’m saying, Har,” the lieutenant interrupted. “What I’m saying is..._fuck Marayna_,” his blue eyes crinkled in a soft laugh, “Look. I started feeling less lonely when I met _you_, back on that station before we got on here. And for a long time, you were the only one who even_ talked_ to me...” Paris still felt cold glances at the back of his neck every so often. He was the black sheep, the ex-con, the ex-Maquis, the cadet-killer. He couldn’t blame these starch-collared federation stiffs. He wanted to be one of them once. “And then I grew on Kes, and B’Elanna, and Janeway, and_ even Neelix_ but—hey. As long as we have our friendships...it’ll be okay, Harry, _really_.” Tom’s hand reached out, _“You’re not alone.”_

It was an old instinct that made Harry take Tom’s hand, palm clasped against palm. Tom’s thumb ran against Harry’s thick knuckles, smooth like river-stones. The pads of Harry’s fingers in turn were a welcome pressure as the grooves between their fingers slowly found each other. Their fingers entwined and stayed like that for a long time as they recalled a time that even when reality slipped away, they didn’t. They refused to let that happen.

“You’re my best friend, Harry,” Tom said in a hush, “So no, you’re never going to be my _second choice._”

A genuine smile finally broke out upon Harry’s face, and Tom wondered then if Harry knew what he looked like, if he knew that he could glow brighter than fire, than a moon or even a sun when he smiled like that, his dark eyes twinkling like starry skies. Tom smiled back, though it flickered along to the sudden beating of his heart. He leaned in further, a touch further than he should have, blinking fast. He swallowed--

\--and then he _stopped_. A sad little chuckle took to his face instead, before he continued further to plant a soft peck on Harry's cheek. 

_ "Hey... _ what was _that _for?" Harry giggled in reply. His dark eyes were dancing, Tom found himself absurdly thrilled.

_ "C'est la vie en France, non?" _ the lieutenant swiftly stood, "_Alors_..._Bonsoir, mon ami--et je t'aime."_

"_Je t'aime," _Harry mouthed the words, cracking up at the shape of them in his mouth, "I love you too, Tom."

Tom winked, before turning around, leaving Harry to collect himself behind the holodeck arches. But he'd be fine now, Tom knew that for sure. 

And as for Lieutenant Paris himself? He wasn't too sure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dammit Tom!


	5. A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry inadvertently goes on a "date".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References events that occur in S3E21 "Before and After"
> 
> BIG EDIT!!!! Retconned last chapter--tbh I intended that to be the last one but now I decided no, it's not gonna be a thing. But now I'm probably gonna save last chapter's lovely conversation for a later time.

_Chez Sandrine _never closed on the U.S.S. Voyager. Upon this occasion Tom and Harry were joined by Kes and B’Elanna for a rousing game of pool--a game that seemed_ more than necessary_ after recent events.

It was a rule from then on out that B'Elanna and Tom play on the same team, else a round would surely be swiftly ended by bloodshed. But Harry and Kes were no match for a pair of psychopaths, and so they retired to a table as the other two fought it out in blinding passion and bitter slurs--of course in good fun, so they hoped...

"So how's the single life, Kes?" Harry asked, teasing, chirping as usual to this new Kes-- she surely wasn't new at all. But with her long, golden locks and that slight, sad smile, full of age and experience, it was clear that they would never have the old Kes back again. 

"Oh...I suppose it's fine. Different..." came her soft voice, "I had no idea so many people on this ship found me attractive--_even at age three!_ It's really quite flattering, actually..." 

"Must be nice to be _wanted,_" the young ensign rolled his eyes with a laugh.

Kes flushed at the remark, a surprised smile shooting into her rosy cheeks, "Come on, Harry. You're just as handsome! Why...I could even consider this a date! I find you attractive, and I think you feel the same way."

"Oh come on, I know you just pity me--"

"No I don't, Harry!" Kes protested fiercely, "I honestly do find you attractive, and kind, and engaging to talk to."

It was Harry's turn to flush now. Harry's smile quirked, laughter nearly escaping him. "Well I guess it's a date then!" He held out a hand to the other.

"Yes, I suppose it is," she beamed, taking his hand. Her hand fit well in Harry's. It was soft, warm to the touch, though just a tad cooler than his own. He liked the sound of her laughter, the way it crinkled the skin around her eyes, her nose. 

"Except it really can't be a date, can it?" she maintained her little smile, though her gaze bore deep into Harry, to the point where he was convinced she could see his thoughts. "Not when my date is constantly looking over my shoulder at another couple."

"Wh-What? I'm _no--"_

But a raise of Kes's dark brows was enough to stop Harry's words short. Harry let her hand go and sat back, squinting hard at Kes. "Tuvok's lessons are really paying off, huh?"

"No, I have_ eyes_, Harry," Kes leaned in, her voice lowering, "And I can see that something about B'Elanna and Tom is troubling you." 

Tom and B'Elanna, meanwhile, had finished their game of pool, but were not quite ready to rejoin the others. B'Elanna was leaning back against the edge of the pool table, smiling wide. Tom was balancing against a pool cue, wearing that coy grin as he looked her up and down. Harry should mind his own business--or at least that's what he hoped he could do. And yet, he couldn't find himself able to...

Harry leaned in as well, expression falling as he bit the inside of his cheek. "Am I_ that obvious?" _he asked, silently hoping she wouldn't give the answer he knew she would. 

_"Yes." _A single syllable felt like a knife sunken into his back. "You're obviously _jealous_." 

"I-I'm not--" Harry stuttered before shaking his head, taking a deep breath, "Something just..._happened_, alright? And I'm wondering if...it was a good thing or even if it was..._real_. You...you probably don't understand a thing I'm saying. I probably sound _crazy.._."

"No," Kes shook her head, "No you don't. Harry, I just lived my entire life backwards, remember? I certainly know what it's like to not know what's..._real..._"

_"...right."_

For someone who was only three, Kes looked a hundred times that now. The way she looked at Harry then made his skin on the back of his hands itch. The itching got worse when Kes spoke. "You need to talk to Tom."

"...how do you know it isn't _B'Elanna__" _Harry countered, a little too zealously. 

Kes shrugged, leaned her cheek on her hand. "The way he looks when he stands next to you. It's clear that _something_ happened with how much he fidgets."

_"He's always fidgety!"_

Her brows rose and fell, making a point. "I know. It's hard to believe he could fidget any more, but he _does_."

Harry responded with silence, a glance to the floor as he bit his tongue. He never was a very good liar.

"Look, Harry, I'm not going to ask what happened. But I am going to ask that you talk to him about this, because it's _really_ getting to you."

He gave a long sigh, drumming his fingers against the table, "You're right," he finally said. "I mean we talked, but...there's just..._something_. Something about seeing the two of them that just makes me unsure about everything--_and it shouldn't_, I mean. I shouldn't really care what they do or_ if they even do anything_ but--" He consciously prevented himself from stealing another glance. He opted to sink lower into the table instead, his elbows sliding across as his knuckles bore into his forehead. "I don't know, Kes..."

Kes laid a gentle hand upon the top of his head. "It's alright to not know. But what you should do is talk to him to find out."

"..._you're right..." _came his muffled whine.

"Want us to leave now?" she asked, leaning down to the melancholy ensign, "I could ask B'Elanna to leave with me. Give you two some time alone."

With a huff, Harry slowly rose to sit up again, pulling her hand from his head. "No, no. I'll do it later." As he sat up, his smile slowly returned. "Besides, it isn't right to run out on a date--_much less offer to_. _Waiter--could I get a bottle of your finest Chardonnay for the table?"_

Kes beamed from ear to ear, her energy settling back down to her chair, back to Harry, upon this cozy night on the French coast. The wind was fine, and the wine was sweet. 

"You're right...I apologize for being so _rude."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup y'all I'm less depressed and less stressed. Still pretty depressed but getting through the end of the semester eased that just a little. Keep on the lookout for further updates!


	6. Curious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry get stuck on a turbo-lift. Harry isn’t thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let. Them. Talk.

Tom always wore this _look_ nowadays whenever he was around Harry. It was as if he were a deer caught in headlight, his eyes would widen and he'd freeze for a moment, before smiling and dropping the other's gaze. Even now when they were more or less _friends_ again, there was always a distinct nervous energy around the lieutenant when they'd stand beside each other. 

Upon one of those occasions, they were in the turbo-lift, expending far too much energy avoiding each other's gazes, though their shoulders brushed against each other. Tom had found a piece of string coming off of his uniform, which was now wound tightly around his littlest finger. 

"Hey there, Har..."

_"Tom."_

"Getting _dinner_, or..."

_"--yeah._ Yeah, think I just might--"

The floor shuddered a little too harshly, chattering their teeth, before coming to a little too _abruptly_ a stop.

After a few moments of far-too-empty a silence, the ensign called out, "Turbo-lift. Continue."

_"The turbo-lift cannot comply."_

_"_Turbo-lift._ Continue."_

_"The turbo-lift cannot comply."_

_"Turbo-lift! Can you just--"_

_"Harry!" _Tom cut into their little quarrel, "_We're stuck_. We've gotta wait for someone in engineering to fix it or something, so just calm down before you have a_ heart attack!"_ He tapped his com-badge, "B'Elanna, what's going on with turbo-lift 3?"

_"I don't know just yet..." _came the head-engineer's tinny voice from the badge,_ "the couplings are just shot. Might take a while to fix this--you're okay, right?"_

"Harry and I are just fine, take as long as you need."

_"Alright. Just hold tight, you two. I'll get you out of there as soon as I can."_

"'_Take as long as you need'?" _the ensign huffed as Tom tapped out of communication, "It's not like I have _infinite dinner_ or anything..."

The lieutenant rose his brows, giving his friend a sidelong glance, "What's your _problem_, Harry?" he chuckled, "Wake up on the wrong side of bed or something? I don't think Janeway will mind if you take another minute to grab a bite--"

"Will you just--_stop talking_...for _five minutes?_ Has it ever occurred to you that you _could?"_

Tom recognized that wild look in Harry's eyes. He replied with a raise of his brows, and really, truly meant to keep it at that. But the crown prince of snark just couldn't seem to keep it at just that. "Or you could just take a bite out of _me..._"

"You're really not as funny as you think you are, Tom!" 

"Harry...I think you need to--"

"--don't _touch me!"_

_"--breathe..."_

Tom had his hands on Harry's shoulders, squeezing gently as he held Harry's gaze. Harry focused on that cool blue, finding himself breathing slowly along with the other. The sound of his heartbeat began to fade out of his ears, and he found that he had been holding his breath. His head slowly dipped down, nearly panting. "I think that's the first time you've held my gaze this long in weeks..."

_"Is it?"_

"Yeah...I think I miss it..."

_"Oh, Harry..."_

_"Shut up."_

There was a chuckle, starting weak, but it grew, and grew, bubbling between them. Tom held onto Harry, and Harry felt less unmoored like this. It was like old times, _almost_ like old times. Until recent events suddenly came back to memory, and a new consciousness came behind their eyes. Tom licked his lips. Harry cleared his throat.

"We've got to talk, don't we?"

_"Oh yeah," _Tom stood, releasing Harry but not before sliding his hands down the ensign's arms. Harry felt himself shiver. They both leaned back against the rails of the turbo-lift, staring down the other hard. Tom spoke first, "Look, I'm sorry I kissed you," he began, "I know it's what you're thinking about. I can see it on your face and well...it was pretty rude of me, wasn't it? Didn't even ask first or anything b-but I..." Tom paused, his voice returning much weaker, "_...thought I was going to die_, and well I thought I might as well, uh..._satisfy_ a curiosity--but it was wrong of me to do, _especially since you're straight and I respect that, of course--"_

"--Tom, I almost killed you."

"--I mean, yeah, but we all have our _bad days--_"

"_\--Tom,"_ Harry seemed of the verge of pleading, "Tom, I'm a _killer_. I almost _killed_ you. I wanted your brain matter on a pipe, Tom, and I nearly did it too." Harry felt his heart racing again, felt a very real fear of the apparent monster that was in him, lurking, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting for just the right moment to_ strike. _But then there was_ Tom, _looking calmer than he had in _weeks_. He actually began to _smile_. 

"We all have our bad days, Harry..." he repeated slowly now, "You're a proud Federation officer, a caring man, and my_ friend_, but you're not a killer, you're just susceptible to a little mental manipulation--_from clamps and women alike_," he chuckled feebly, "But you're not a killer, Harry. _I'm_ a killer--I've been to prison for killing not only those three officers, but many others as a _Maquis_ _mercenary_..." There was a silence only broken by Tom licking his lips once more, taking a shallow breath in, "And let me tell you, killing _changes_ you, Harry."

Harry saw what he meant by that, saw Tom calculating in his mind how loudly Harry would scream when he died. But then he looked beyond that, to find fear, to find worry, to find a lonely, troubled man in want of a friend. 

"_Tom..._" Harry sighed at last, "Tom you've killed, but...but you're not a killer either, just _idiotically__ loyal_." Harry chuckled as well, "Tom, you've been my friend through some of the worst experiences of my life. You're nothing _but_ caring."

_"Likewise," _he smirked, looking Harry up and down. There was a brief lull in the conversation, as each waited for the other to speak. There was something else, always something else... ”You know,” Tom began, his voice soft, but his gaze a little too determined to catch Harry’s. It held on, steadfast, unbroken and blue. “I think that's when I began to fall for you. You were there for me, to defend me, you walking beam of_ actual starlight_, no matter what..."

The abrupt confession made Harry blink. "Oh, so you admit it _now?" _he kept a light-hearted tone, but the words still hit hard. He thought a confession would feel different having suspected it beforehand, but somehow it still made his head feel like it might float out into space, made his chest tickle and ache. He felt like he had been sucker-punched by something hot, something burning. It made him dizzy, made him sweat. 

"_Oh yes,_" Tom cracked up, dropping Harry’s eye like a hot phasor. “Since we're here. I'm attracted to you. I...like you a lot, and I am curious about you, which is funny 'cause I really don't like _shy guys_," his eyes had been slowly traveling back up again, until they caught Harry's, and the look softened along with his voice, "But you inspire me, Harry. You really do. So I thought then, if I'm going to die I..._might give it a try_..."

Tom looked casual, had that _devil-may-care _grin as he leaned just a little to his right, showing off his "better side". But Harry knew the lieutenant too well, well enough to know that Tom was downright terrified right now, with the way he gripped the rails, with how hard he stared down Harry, with how his teeth were pressed a little too tightly and how he didn't notice his finger with the loose string wound around it slowly turning purple. 

"But I know you're straight, and I want to keep being your friend, so I--"

_"--I'm curious too."_

Tom stopped short, his cool blue eyes widening. _"Pardon?"_

It was out there now, and part of Harry wish he had kept his mouth shut, but it was out there and Harry was left to bite his cheek and prevent the urge to shove a phaser into his mouth. He felt his feet sinking a little too deeply into the carpet. 

"Tom, I--I'm curious too." It was an effort for Harry to stand tall, arms at his sides, rather than to curl up on the floor and try to disappear. 

Now it was Tom's turn to get sucker-punched. It was in the soft couple of blinks of his eyes, the slight tilt to his head, the pressing of his lips. His hands came forward and he tore the bit of string off of his finger, "You uh..." his voice cracked, "You're_ curious_, huh?"

Harry gave a short nod that bounced his smooth, black hair. Tom looked off to a corner of the floor, muttering a soft swear. Harry was unsure if he looked thrilled, or looked like he wished he _had_ died. Tom licked his lips, Harry cleared his throat. Tom took a step forward, Harry took another. And suddenly, they were toe to toe, when the floor shuddered beneath their feet. 

_"Sorry for the wait!" _Torres's voice rang out above them, _"Hope it wasn't too long."_

They floated to a halt on deck 2 in silence. Harry half-wanted to let the doors just slide shut over them. Tom half-hoped he would. 

"See you around, then?"

_"Maybe."_

Harry lingered for just a moment too long, before turning to hurry out of there. Tom felt his stomach sink, his chest fill with air for what felt like the first time in decades. He sank back against the turbo-lift wall, tapping his com-badge once more. 

_"Thanks, B'Elanna..." _he sighed, _"Can always count on you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this chapter waiting in my notes for a while and I just wasn’t sure... cleaned it up some and am putting it out here. May edit more but at this point it’s not likely. I’ll probably just move on.


	7. Requited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom gets dinner with B’Elanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love some gossiping gal pals.

“He did?”

_“He did.”_

”In the turbo-lift?”

_”In the turbo-lift...”_

_”Well, why didn’t you—”_

”I don’t _know, _B’Elanna!” Tom snapped, before his head sank down, chin resting upon his interlaced fingers on the table, though his cool, blue gaze remained steadily fixed on his friend. “Something about the elevators getting _fixed_ a little too early.”

The half-Klingon rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with a scoff as she leaned back in her seat in the Mess Hall. “Well I was doing my job! How was _I_ supposed to know you two would be having a tearful confession in the turbo-lift?!”

”There weren’t any _tears!”_

“Please, you’re close to tears even _now_...”

_“Am not!” _Tom stood in outrage. It would have appalled most, even upset another, but B’Elanna simply rolled her eyes, before silently directing the other to sit back down with a point of her finger, to which Tom begrudgingly obliged.

“Tom, you’re quicker than a comet with girls, but with men you’re slower than a _tangqua_’,” she nagged, “Even when you’re _hitting on me,_ he’s somehow brought up—and now you’ve finally got some requited feelings!”

”Yeah—but I’m still not sure, you know...” Tom withdrew, pushing back his hair, “He really wasn’t all that’s clear...all he really said is that he was _curious_...”

B’Elanna gave the other a look as if she were mentally shoving his face into his half-eaten shepherd’s pie. “Quench his curiosity then. Dress up and put on some cologne, show up at his door and just—”

”This isn’t one of your Klingon romance novels, B’Elanna!” It was Tom’s turn to roll his eyes. “I really don’t think that’s going to be all it takes!”

”Why not? You’re good-looking enough!”

”Oh so _now_ you admit it, huh?”

”Focus on one person at a time, Tom,” she countered quickly. “Anyway, he’s at least interested in you. I think it’s a good start! Just time for you to uh..._lay it on?”_

Tom sighed at B’Elanna’s attempt, but he’d have to applaud her for effort. “Nice try—anyway, it’s going to be a little hard for that to happen now...he’s been avoiding me for the past week and a half...”

”Come on, you’ve got to be exaggerating.”

Speak of the Devil, in he came, toeing the edge of the Mess Hell, his soft, brown eyes doing a tired but quick scan of the room. Tom tried to catch the ensign’s eye, and caught it just for a second, before the other’s dark brows rose, and he turned on a heel and discreetly exited the Mess Hall. Tom sighed in defeat, sinking into his seat. “See what I mean!” he groaned.

B’Elanna folded her arms and leaned back, staring in disbelief as she slowly shook her head. “That’s what you get for falling for a kid...and a _straight_ one at that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep bringing her up, and I’m pussy-footing on an actual ending, so I thought this might be a fun interlude and buy me some time to think.


	8. The Prince of Ax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Voyager Crew come down to a planet after being invited to a princess's formal coming-of-age presentation. Tom and Harry are forced to confront each other at last. Things go wrong, inevitably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare to burn

Dress uniforms never seemed to fit right, no matter who it was fitted for. It was either too loose at the hips or too tight, too baggy at the calves or nearly-pornographic in how it displayed the rotundity of the lower-leg muscles. They were always equally horrid across one's bust for man, woman, and all the rest. But it was what was done for these sorts of gatherings. And down on this planet, they insisted the crew come down to celebrate the princess's birthday and formal presentation.

Captain Janeway's orders: _"Be merry."_

Ensign Harry Kim was looking the _least _merry of the lot, seeming on the verge of an anxiety attack at the edge of the great, golden grand ballroom as he choked down his fifth glass of whatever they were serving. At least night was coming to a close...

Lieutenant Tom Paris, on the other hand, was the _most_ merry, sharing a vibrant quick step in cut-time of the current airy melody that floated through the halls with some local noblewoman no doubt. They looked quite close to Betazoids, with their dark-as-night eyes, though their pointed ears were reminiscent of a Vulcan's, albeit just a tad longer, the upper crest more curved towards the face. Harry liked the color of the woman's dress. It was blue, like the San Francisco bay. However, he avoided lingering too long on Tom Paris, despite his red uniform flashing like a beacon through the crowd. The uniform swayed around his hips a little too freely, like the woman's dress, and it amused Harry how gangly the lieutenant truly was—_until he remembered that he did not want to look—_

_"Feeling a little shy, aren't we, Harry."_

Harry blinked at the sudden sight of klingon ridges. He was faced with one B'Elanna Torres, smiling suspiciously wide. 

"...I don't suppose you think you're going to be the one to get me on the dance floor, do you?" 

B'Elanna smiled even wider, "What? _No!_ Why would I _ever_ want my subordinates to _dare_ enjoy themselves for once?" she giggled, taking Harry's hand fast in hers as Harry groaned.

"You know, your sarcasm isn't as endearing as you think it is, B'Elanna..." Harry sighed, shuffling along to the whims of her _very_ tight grasp. 

"Be endearing? Now why would I ever want to do _that?"_ the junior lieutenant scoffed as she placed Harry's hand on her lower back, flashing him a look of _"don't get cheeky". _It was a fight to determine who would lead who, but at some point it seemed that B'Elanna had won.

"You know, I haven't seen you around much," the klingon sighed as she spun him around, "I kind of miss you, Harry."

"What are you talking about?" Harry rose a brow, briefly succeeding in guiding her to a twirl under his arm, "You see me in engineering all the time!"

"I mean, _yes—_" she chuckled, forcing the man backwards with the sturdiness of her hips, "But that's work, Harry! I never see you anywhere else, not lunch, not dinner—you know, you really should join Tom, Kes, and I for billiards again some time."

"I've just been busy," Harry returned quickly, forcing B'Elanna back a few paces, starting to feel that this was more_ fighting_ than _dancing_, "You know, trying to help keep a starship running in an unfamiliar and _hostile_ quadrant and all."

"Doesn't mean you can't take a rest once in a while—"

_"—I think I rest just fine without you!"_

"_You know_, there's someone else missing your company too," B'Elanna rose her voice over Harry's, now just short of blatantly pushing him in one direction.

_"Care to tell me who?"_

_"Ask his name yourself!"_

The pair bumped into another pair just beside them, and suddenly Kes was in B'Elanna's arms, leaving Harry to another. However, when he turned to see who it was, he turned just as white as the other man did.

_"Tom..." _the ensign felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth as he spoke. The lieutenant seemed to feel just about the same way, as his voice took just a little too long to leave his mouth as his lips parted.

"..._Harry."_

The next melody swelled to a start, and the crowds around them were off to a spinning start, leaving this unlucky pair in the dust, standing in stillness, in silence, as both men seemed too terrified to touch the other. Until Tom smiled the slightest smile, though it reached up to wrinkle the corners of his steel blue eyes, beckoning the other to just _attempt_ to come closer. Harry was next to smile, the expression tense, though it morphed from anxious to livid, all in Harry's dark eyes, how they suddenly connected with Tom's just a little too forcefully. He offered his hand, Tom took it, and fell rather gracefully into Harry's lead as his free hand fell lightly onto Harry's broad shoulder. Harry pushed and Tom gave way like water, keeping his eyes trained on Harry's, no matter how much they burned.

"So you were that desperate to see me again?" Harry muttered, "That you had to have B'Elanna _bulldoze_ me through a crowd to you?"

"Harry, I don't know what you're talking about," the other replied, his voice as soft as his follow was, "I'm just as confused as you are, really."

_"Don't lie to me, Tom."_

"I'm not_ lying, Har..." _he gently spun out, then back in again, "Kes stole me away from some absolutely _gorgeous_ countess—and next thing I know, I'm stuck with _you!"_

_"Stuck with me, eh?"_

"Not that it's such a bad thing," Tom flashed one of his classic grins, "A strapping young ensign from a far-off planet...sounds downright dreamy if you ask me. Too bad he's_ short..."_

Harry threw the other into a twirl in reply. "Just shut up. Tom, you're not funny."

_"I don't know, that countess seemed to disagree..."_

_"Tom!"_

The lieutenant frowned, "Fine, then I'll be serious." Tom was becoming less like an easy-going stream and more like a formidable ocean, threatening to steal the lead from Harry once again. "You've been avoiding me. I want to know why."

"_Avoiding_ you?" Harry scoffed, adjusting to push back against Tom, "It's called being busy! The world doesn't revolve around you, Tom!" 

"Busy with _what?"_

_"My job?"_

"Oh yeah?" the lieutenant chuckled, though hardly out of joy, "What's gotten you so busy that you can't return a single call for two weeks?"

_"Things."_

_"Things?_ Things that came up right after what happened in the elevator?"

"Tom, I really don't think this is the most appropriate time—"

_"—well I've tried just about every other time for the last two weeks, haven't I?"_

Harry's mouth opened and shut, his broad chest deflating.The two slowed, but didn't stop. It was Tom's turn to burn, and Harry's to fry.

"Tom...I..." the ensign struggled for words, his gaze downcast as if he could pick a sentence up off the floor, "I'm just a little freaked out, alright? I am...or was..._heterosexual_." Their movements began to calm, as Harry led with grace, and Tom followed airily, like steam, light on his feet. And still he couldn't catch Tom's gaze, for fear his soul would burn. He wanted to sink through the floor, down into the molten core of this planet, and live there. "To think I might not be is just a little..._intimidating..."_

Tom breathed in deeply, out through his nose, as guilt washed over him. He squeezed Harry's shoulder in that way he always did when the ensign was on the brink of jumping off the deep end. His voice lowered to a whisper. "Hey, hey..." he said, "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Harry looked up then, for what felt like the first time in two weeks, as Tom's hand left his shoulder to cradle his cheek. They stopped, then, dead in their tracks on the middle of the dance floor.

"I was afraid..." 

_"Afraid?"_

"Afraid that I might..._that we might..._"

Harry pressed Tom's hand into his cheek and leaned in. The music began to die down, though he wasn't sure if this was just in his own head. Tom’s thumb brushed against Harry’s lower lip. Harry closed his eyes and leaned in...

...only to be bumped into against the shoulder and find Neelix in his arms.

Harry turned his head to find Tom now dancing with a new woman. She was dressed plainly, her dress starkly grey against the jubilee of colors around her. But the grey did well to liven up her copper-toned complexion. She was impossibly beautiful, and yet impossibly demure, and quite young to boot. Tom stole a glance at Harry, before the young woman called for his attention with a move of her lips that gave only the softest of salutations.

The next song had already begun playing. Neelix was asking Harry if he was alright, but Harry wasn't registering Neelix's voice. The music was breaking into a halt, like a wash of silence. The lights dimmed. A booming voice announced from the top of the stair:

_"Formally presenting the Princess Airennia Selim Zhoriara Renyebi of Ax, and her betrothed, Thomas Eugene Paris of Earth!"_

Tom and Harry shared a stunned look between them, their eyes wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh I looked up "alien names" and then added syllables to some names from the database lm ao


	9. The Ways Between Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Princess Airennia come up with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning it gets a bit interesting in dialogue regarding sexual consent...implied references to rape.

They sat side by side, hands 5 centimeters apart. Her dark eyes were downcast, staring at her feet. Tom stared at her, hesitant to even breathe. No explanations were given before he was spirited away from the ballroom, and now he sat beside her. She still wore her dress, steel grey but soft to the touch, seeming close to melting away when his fingertips first pressed into her back at the ball.

And now they sat side by side on a great and plush bed, hands 5 centimeters apart. 

"So uh...what now?" Tom broke the silence with the grace of a meteor crashing to a planet.

The princess's lips quirked up, before falling back into a gentle frown once more. "Now...we take our _private_ vows together, before...we make our public ones come the new light."

"Ah...of course. How _silly_ of me, I knew that." Tom chuckled, though it soon became abundantly clear that his sarcasm didn't land so smoothly. He watched as she breathed long, slow breaths, her chest rising and falling quite far. He could feel an energy roll off of her, like gunpowder. It was then he realized she was shaking. Tom feared speaking further, but despite his better senses, his lips did what they pleased. "Uh...would you mind _reminding me_ what_ taking our vows_ might entail?"

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice, though she never broke eye contact with the bottom of the dresser in front of them. She quickly undid her dark hair, letting it fall smoothly down her shoulders like rivers, down to the small of her back. Tom was momentarily mesmerized by the sight, so mesmerized he hardly had time to stop her from unfastening the ribbons of her bodice.

"Hey, hey, _stop!"_ Tom near-screamed, jumping to seize her hands, "I-I think I'd prefer a description rather than a _demonstration._"

"Has your father not educated you in The Before Night?" she tore her hands away from his and looked him in the eyes for the first time since they had entered this room. Her gaze was intense, harsh and dark, threatening to swallow him whole. Her teeth clenched beneath her smooth jaw. "Do you not know The Ways Between Two?"

Tom held her gaze for a moment, his chin tipping up as he spoke, "My father didn't educate me much, but I think I got a few things figured out." He leaned back on his hands, effectively spiking the ball to the princess's court. The princess did not back down for a while, her eyes narrowing as her plump lips pursed. But her jaw soon relaxed, her eyes falling away in timidity as she turned her head away from him once again.

"Well, I am not a man. So I cannot tell you because I do not know." She blinked fast, her eyes wet. "But you are _preventing_ me from fulfilling the one role I am meant to have. I hope you know that you preventing me from undressing is the _highest insult."_

"Well excuse _me_ for not wanting to get intimate with someone who clearly doesn't want to," he shot back. She side-eyed him, but even at this angle her glare was sharp enough to pierce flesh. Tom's tone softened as he quickly sat up. "Look...in _my_ culture...this _ac_t that we are meant to undergo is a very serious thing to do. And in order to undergo it, both people need to be aware of what's happening and _consent_ to it happening because it can get kinda..._intense..."_

"This act, this _act_\--you are meant to _teach me_ this act!" she cried, before falling back, her hair pooling beneath her as she stared up to the high ceiling above, tears finally making their slow descent down the sides of her face. "I'm meant to undress, you're meant to teach me of The Ways Between Two, and then we inform the elders at the first spark of new light what I have learned, before sealing The Bond for eternity..." Her voice quickly became thick, croaking softly as her chest rose and fell, now just a tad shallower, a tad faster. Tom watched her, finding himself scared to move or even breathe again. Even her aggression and pride could not disguise her age, for her tears betrayed it. She was young, perhaps comparable to a human in late adolescence. Tom leaned down, then leaned further, until he came to lay beside the young woman, on his side and facing her.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" he spoke softly. "You're afraid of what I'm supposed to teach you."

_"Of course I'm not--"_

_"You're not a very good liar, you know..."_

She turned her head to him, her lips pressing as she stared daggers at him, before rolling her eyes, the tension slowly leaving her face. However, she did turn, her body now facing his, the points of her ears peeking out from her smooth, dark hair, though her hands curled up into herself. Her dark gaze stared downward, toward her own curled fingers. "I know things...things I'm not meant to know," she whispered. "I've heard whispers when I've snuck out of the palace...whispers of pain...a hot pain...pain so deep inside..." The girl gave a shuddering breath. "I fear the pain. I fear the heat. But it is my duty to endure it." Her thumb pressed into her lower lip as she slowly retreated to somewhere deep inside herself. Tom wondered what she heard. He wondered if they were even thinking of the same thing, and a part of him desperately hoped they _weren't, _that he wasn't _expected _to do this to this poor girl.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Tom suddenly spoke, causing her gaze to suddenly flit up to meet his. She was caught off guard, her dark eyes betraying her shock. Tom continued. "I'm not gonna lay a finger on you. That I can promise--"

_"--why not?" _She cut him off, petulant once again. Tom was getting quite tired of encountering some of the most arrogant species of the galaxy on his journey. 

"_Because--_" he nearly shouted, but he stopped himself short, taking a breath in, breath out, before speaking again. "Because in my culture, where _I'm_ from, this is not only meant to _not hurt_, but it is meant to be done between two people who love each other." Tom smiled, a jocular grin, but wide nonetheless. "Now, princess, you may be very beautiful, but I just don't love you, and I don't think you love _me."_

The princess was silent for a moment. Her voice returned thick, muffled by her thumb pressed against her lower lip. "I'm not meant to love you. Only to commit The Ways Between Two."

"But do you want to?"

"It does not matter what I--"

"_Princess Airennia. Do you want to?"_

She winced at his tone, her brows furrowing. Her lips parted then, teeth coming out to press gently into the edge of her thumb. _"...no."_

Tom smiled wider. "Glad we are in agreement, because with all due respect, I do not want to marry you tomorrow."

For the first time the entire night, the princess smiled in return, crinkling her nose and watering her eyes. "We share one mind." Tom couldn't help but find some insult in the joy she expressed at this, but he decided that _now_ was not the time to stroke his ego.

"Okay, now I'm a little curious, if you don't mind my asking, princess..." Tom narrowed his eyes. _"Why did you even pick me?"_

"I did not," she said, slowly pulling her thumb out from between her lips. "The Fate did. It brought you to me at precisely the midnight of my birth. Our pairing is meant to be an auspicious one as a result."

Tom scowled at this, wondering all this time why these species and societies never cared to warn the crew of the Voyager of their customs before burdening the crew with them, no matter how hindering or even harmful they may be. 

"In my culture, The Fate does not control us," Tom chuckled, "_We control The Fate. _Now...if you haven't guessed already, I'm not exactly from around here. My people of our vessel are lost travelers, yearning to return home. Princess, if you were lost and far away from home, from everybody you _do_ love, would you not yearn to return?"

The girl nodded mutely at this, though her eyes began buzzing with questions she was too timid to ask. A strange man from a strange world, alone with her in her bedchambers. She was at once more terrified and more excited. She yearned for stories of skies she knew not the color of. She yearned for stories of waters she would never drink.

"Princess, I ask again, if you truly wish to go through with these _vows_ with me, and be bonded to me for life." 

"Oh no, I find you much too irritating to stand being bonded to you!" she tittered, slowly shedding some of her demure demeanor, before it came crashing back down like falling curtains over a window. "And...when you speak of _love_...well, perhaps there is someone I do_ love..."_

_"Oh?"_

She maintained a smile now, but the expression in itself was coy, her eyes bouncing but downcast. "Yes...there is one I love. One I hoped to see to-night. And I did see her, but by midnight's toll, we became separated..." She began to roll forward, seeming keen on sinking facedown into the sheets as she spoke. She whispered now, hardly audible as the tips of her pointed ears flushed pink. "She promised in secret to teach me The Ways as her brothers have told her..."

Tom's brows flew up, impressed by the tenancy of teenagers even lightyears away from Earth. But he managed a little laugh at this, one that infected the girl. "There is one I love as well, princess, and I wish to return to him as soon as possible to teach him The Ways myself."

The tips of her ears were red now as she heard this, but she maintained her grin, though it began to decay. She dropped Tom's gaze, before abruptly coming to rise. "Then I will ensure you meet your love again." She now tore at her dress's ribbons. Tom let her, averting his eyes as she shed layers, remaining in a shift alone. She stood to take to her wardrobe, fetching a large, black cloak and a set of simple, lightweight clothing from it. 

"Come, take my hand," Princess Airennia of Ax stood before Tom once fully clothed, reaching her hand out to him. "I will be taking you to your love now, Thomas of Earth,” she proclaimed, “But only if you tell me stories of your skies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm flying by the seat of my pants if I'm gonna be honest.

**Author's Note:**

> Not very gay, but almost... will it get gayer? Next time, on Star Trek: Voyager...


End file.
